


The spice of life

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, POV Anders (Dragon Age), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:16:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26004037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: On a slow night in the clinic, Anders can hardly focus on his writing with Hawke so near and delightfully distracting.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Kudos: 19





	The spice of life

**Author's Note:**

> This was a multi-prompt fill just to scratch an itch and experiment a bit more with smut. It's not super explicit but rated just to be safe.

From the corner of his eyes, Anders observed as Hawke settled on top of the desk. They were tucked away in the back room while he finished the closing details about his last patient and the executed procedures. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the view; on the contrary, Hawke had _artfully_ liberated his tunic of its sleeves at some point in its life cycle, and thus the man's brawny arms were now proudly on display. How perfectly distracting. Anders had never met a mage with a build like his before, but Hawke had grown up an apostate, a farmer's son, and surely knew a life of hard but honest labor. Prudently averting his eyes and focusing on his work was a task for the ages, Anders managed to control his baser urges by no small miracle. Justice's vigilance and the persistent reminder of his presence certainly helped a little.

"Alright, so-" Hawke began, a story primed on his lips, before being interrupted. "You're sitting on my notes, love." 

Indeed, the man had made himself comfortable right on a finished stack of parchment. Not to mention his back was perilously close to the shelf of potions and poultices that Anders had set up on what little space the desk already offered. "Oh. Sorry!" His scramble to get up was less than graceful as it dispersed several pages across the clinic's floor, almost taking the potion stand with them.

Anders ceased in his writing, pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned quite audibly. "Maker, you're worse than the dog sometimes."

Despite the sheepish, guilt-ridden smile on his face as he picked up the pages, Hawke still had a quip ready. "Is that a dig at my background or my coordination?" There was a glint in his eye that never failed to make Anders smile, which both made him feel like the luckiest man alive and a growing desire to pounce on him then and there.

_Although_ , he mused, internally. It wasn't particularly late in the day, but the distinct lack of many patients had not escaped his notice. A least an hour or more had gone by since the last one. "Neither," Anders muttered with a chuckle in his throat as he abruptly rose from his chair.

"Wait, where are you going?" 

He had heard Hawke's query by the time he slipped out of his room, heading for the clinic doors. "Dousing the lanterns. You can sit right there."

"What-"

"I said, _sit down_ , love." The distinct charge now hanging in the air as the atmosphere shifted was more than palpable. Anders didn't even need to hear the sound Hawke made to know what he must be thinking. However, he did steal a glance over his shoulder when the chair squeaked and caught the almost-feral grin on his partner's face. That expression alone was a dangerous lure, but he knew the payoff would be worthwhile if he held back long enough to strip himself of the heavy coat and pauldrons. 

As he approached, Anders could see the start of a blush coloring his lover's tanned face. For all of the man's boldness in affairs of the heart, Hawke was still often humbled by Anders's far more forward nature, given the right provocation anyway. Never had he been brought low for his past experiences. Naturally, there was nothing to be ashamed of, but that didn't mean he never worried what a partner might think of his history. That was, fortunately, a non-issue with Hawke. 

Speaking of Hawke, the poor man could barely contain his eagerness with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and the notably tight grip on the chair's arms. "You know you're my favorite?" He spoke without breaking eye contact.

Anders brushed away a few strands of his beloved's rust-red hair and planted kisses across Wyatt's jaw, making a trail across to his ear. "I better be, after this. Just look at what you do to me." Chuckles buzzed against his cheek as they parted, and Anders gave Hawke a full view of himself and an undeniable stiffening desire. 

"Oh, I can see very well what it is that I do." 

His hands found purchase on Anders's hips with a decidedly possessive grip just long enough to drink him in. He always flourished under Hawke's appreciative gaze and found such contentment in being coveted so lovingly.

Rough palms slid beneath the hem of his trousers after making short work of the laces, meeting nothing but warm skin. "No smalls?" 

"In the washing," Anders quipped as he watched his lover's face run through emotions ranging from surprise to curiosity and then amusement; he was grinning like the cat who ate the canary while slowly peeling away the only barrier between them. 

The cold air met his exposed bits just a moment before being replaced by soft lips. Anders sucked in a breath and steadied himself against Hawke, who had only just begun. His beloved's hands roamed, gripping his hips again and using them to set the pace at his whim. "Oh, Maker. Hawke-" 

A giddy chuckle bubbled in the back of Anders's throat as he relished in the thrill of being so intimate like this in the clinic. Even with the doors shut and lanterns dark, the small chance of someone happening upon his doorstep was genuine. Justice had long since retreated, preferring not to involve himself in such interactions, leaving Anders to his private thoughts. None of which were the least bit appropriate.

He had taken to burying his hands in Wyatt's hair, curling his fingers tighter the closer he came to the edge.

Until it abruptly ceased.

"Sweet Andraste, you're a horrible tease!" He felt his toes curl from within his boots, and a slew of other curses pass across his thoughts that perhaps weren't only his own.

"Only the best kind." Hawke snickered and peppered him with kisses across his body, lifting the tunic to get at the freckles that dusted his stomach. Any length of time spent in the sun never failed to unearth them. Never had they held much significance to Anders before, but Hawke had a fascinating affection for them. However desperately Anders yearned for him to continue, he sighed calmly, and let his body relax, humming low in his throat as Hawke slowly traveled back down to pick up where he had inevitably left off. The feeling building in his core was one he knew well and welcomed wholeheartedly. 

Every chance of release at Hawke's will was exceptionally satisfying, and this one was no different. 

In his momentary stupor of bliss, Anders was unprepared to be caught off guard when Wyatt rose swiftly to his feet, but not yet having let go. He found himself swept up and off his feet, held closely yet precariously. He held on with arms wrapped firmly around Hawke's neck until his back met the wall of his (former) makeshift bedroom. Held up and in place only by a muscled thigh bisecting his legs, Anders tried to steady himself. Their mouths met in a feverish kiss, silencing any complaints that might have flown from his lips. He almost lost himself enough in the simple intimacy of the act to realize what was happening next. It was Hawke's turn to drop his breeches, and it became all too apparent when Anders felt the telltale pull on the fade as one willed forth any amount of arcana. In this instance, he knew what it meant well before feeling the slick warmth at his entrance.

"Doing okay?" The distinct chill accompanying Wyatt's words brushed his throat and jaw, leaving raised gooseflesh. Much was the same as little sparks, and chilled pricks from his lover's fingertips made contact with the bare skin beneath his tunic. Even the smallest inclusions of magic into their couplings were a rush, not to mention the more practical uses.

He pulled himself out of his head long enough to grab a firm handful of Hawke's ass with a free hand, as verbal directions always seemed too clinical. "Don't you dare stop again," Anders breathed and moved his bracing arm from the wall to his lover's back, clinging with selfish need.

"Someone's demanding." 

It was a quiet quip, barely audible through the pounding of his heart in his ears, but Anders still caught it, and he wore it like a badge of pride. Was he demanding? Maybe. But Hawke was far too generous to care. 

There was a retort on the tip of Anders's tongue but slipped away somewhere in the haze. After all, what use were words right now when their bodies were doing all the speaking for them?

Though Hawke was strong, mighty in physical prowess and size, his handling was capable of such tenderness. Not that Anders didn't like a good, rough tumble in the hay, but it was almost intoxicating the way someone like that showed such remarkable restraint.

By now, the fog of pleasure had thoroughly dulled his senses and settled into his head that his tip over the edge was no grand explosion but more like the rising tide washing up and over him. One that he was content to ride to its apex and come down gently from after.

Hawke must have already come and had graciously focused on making sure that Anders was equally satisfied. Yet neither made a move to separate, not when the other mage's mouth moved to his throat again and began nipping at the flushed skin. Anders threw both of his arms around Wyatt's neck and nuzzled into him.

"Keep that up, and I may ask for round two." Laughter pooled in his chest easily for once in what felt like weeks. Weeks he spent with his head underwater gasping for breath. This past year hadn't been good for his people but - 

"Yeah yeah, warden stamina. Don't have to flaunt it, you know." 

But there would be time to worry about that later. Or tomorrow. Surely Justice would be in full swing and urgent as ever by then.

"Anders." 

He felt more than heard Hawke's mid-range timbre vibrate against his chest. "Hmm?"

"Hush." 

"I wasn't saying anything!"

"You were thinking about work. I know you well enough by now." 

There was a chuckle in his tone, a very subtle, affectionate one. The words rang true, of course, that he couldn't deny. "Alright, fine. The revolution doesn't sleep, I'll have you know." He teased and was rewarded by Wyatt's usual, charming sideways smile. 

"So I'm aware." He carefully removed himself from Anders and let him down to stand on his own two feet properly. "C'mon. Let's get cleaned up and go home." Hawke mumbled lazily, tucking a stray piece of hair behind Anders's ear and tracing the line from earlobe to jaw and lips where his thumb lingered briefly.

Anders seized the opportunity to kiss the hovering finger. "I really should tidy up here first."

"Well then hurry it up." A bare hand playfully clapped his ass just as he turned toward the wash bin. 

"Are you _sure_ you're not trying to taunt me into round two, love?" 

"And what if I was?" 

His lover's voice had dropped an octave and brushed the fine hairs along Anders's neck. The man's hand was so perilously close, and he so tightly wound again, Hawke could easily get him off quickly with a few well-timed strokes. Well, perhaps a bit more than just a few, but really, it would not take much. He couldn't stop the moan that left his throat and cursed his easily motivated body. Halfheartedly, of course. He had very few complaints about Wyatt's ability to stir him so effortlessly. 

"Well you can either hand me my trousers, and we'll head up to the manor, or-"

Arms scooped him up rather unceremoniously and cut his sentence short. Anders was swept off his feet and complained as Wyatt slung him over a shoulder with minimal effort. He would never fail to be surprised by the mage's sheer strength. "Hawke!"

Wyatt's hum in response was cheeky, but from his current position, Anders was at a disadvantage. "You are _not_ going to carry me home!" However, his protest was futile. They had already made it to the doors when Anders realized that Hawke intended to do just that. Still, he was grateful for the little modesty offered to him as they exited the clinic with his coat draped over his backside.

"Wouldn't want anyone to get a free look now. That's for paying customers only." 

Anders snorted, awkwardly folding his arms over his chest despite the angle. Yet for all his outward indignation, part of him enjoyed the slightly exhibitionist move. He knew that Hawke still had his best interests at heart and only meant to tease, to maintain a sense of good humor during such a trifling period in their lives.

"Is that so? Then I expect full compensation from you after this."

Abundant laughter flowed freely and wrapped itself around him like a quilt against Darktown's chill just as they slipped inside the cellar door to the manor.


End file.
